


in a water globe

by subchesters



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Belly Bulging, Biting, Bottom Keith (Voltron), Character Study, Coming Untouched, M/M, Minor Allura/Lance (Voltron), Multiple Orgasms, POV Outsider, Season/Series 05, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 13:41:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17163008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subchesters/pseuds/subchesters
Summary: It would be better if everyone had the context for Lotor's behavior. Why is he suddenly everywhere in random places, why is he up at one in the morning in the kitchen, not that there's anything wrong with that, cause that's not exactly princely.Or, five times the paladins witnessed Lotor trying to court Keith through ancient Galra techniques but didn't know it, and one time they learned about it.





	in a water globe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Val_Creative](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/gifts).



> This was written for the Keitor secret Santa exchange on Tumblr, for [nooowestayandgetcaught](http://nooowestayandgetcaught.tumblr.com/%22) on Tumblr. I had a lot of fun writing this and it truly was a blast. There is a mention of Lance's crush on Allura, but it's just a tiny sprinkle of it.
> 
> There's a bit of talk about mixed race alien treatment in this fic, and seeing that I'm biracial myself, I kind of slipped that into this, and it's just a very small exploration of it. It's nothing too big, but just know it's there.
> 
> Title is from [Boy in A Water Globe](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nrIp-Crj92E) by Slow Meadow
> 
> All mistakes are mine, y'll know the routine.

1.

 

It starts off innocuous enough.

It’s another day where Lotor is holding a meeting within the Castle in order to discuss the inner workings of the Galra’s military and the mechanics of the ships and their weaknesses, as well as the key players of the rebel factions of Galra that are trying to gain enough support to dethrone Lotor and take power for themselves. It’s a meeting with more jargon and intricate workings than anyone really is prepared for, and a lot of it is clean-cut and dry to the point where people are having trouble understanding beyond the drone of continuous information that fills their ears and weighs heavy in their minds. They all know they should be paying attention, they should be working toward absorbing this information more diligently to understand, they should be demanding more out of Lotor and his knowledge of ten thousand years’ worth of information o the Galra’s imperialistic tactics and the success it’s brought them.

But.

 _But_.

It’s a day where they’ve come off a previous one of constant Galra ships, to rogue fighter pilots that have tried to craft the beginnings of their own faction with a clear objective to gain power that will create a name for themselves that they so recklessly try to force Voltron’s hand. If they’re able to force Voltron to flee, if they’re able to antagonize them enough even with a retreat back into the all-consuming blackness of space, it shows the strength and perseverance of the Galra ways and how they are the shining pinnacle of everything it could possibly be. It’s an obvious plan, one that Lotor has let them be known, and that Voltron should expect more rogue and random attacks like this because he is now the prime obstacle in the way of the power grab within the fractured Galra Empire.

“It is imperative that we all stay alert and vigil for the next wave of fighters,” is so pristine and sleek in that tone of voice Lotor presents things in, and Lance knows that Lotor would have no problem winning over throngs of women because of that _posh_ accent of his, “the Galra Empire is within its own civil war, and power grabs are going to very common. Seeing that I am the current Emperor, and that there are factions that do not agree with my leadership because of my Altean lineage, “and oh, yeah, Galra are kind of purists when it comes to blood, “they will seek to overthrow me.”

Lance could do without the constant nuisance of having to participate in a petty power scramble.

Today turns out to be different than the other days.

On a rare occasion, Keith happens to be visiting from the Blades, at Kolivan’s request, to come to the Castle to discuss with Lotor about the inner workings of the Galra Empire’s quintessence supply lines and how they’re tracking these odd oscillations of quintessence signatures and _yadda, yadda, yadda_ , Lance doesn’t quite remember, but that doesn’t matter.

“Why doesn’t Kolivan just Skype with us? Wouldn’t he want to be here to listen to this?”

There’s an intrigued look to Allura’s face (oh man, does Lance want to stop and teach her more about Earth and see that look on her face—oh yeah, he’s supposed to be focusing on something else) about the mention of Skype and what it entails, but Keith just shakes his head.

“He wanted me to come, and to, uh,” and Keith shifts from foot to foot, his hands coming to clasp behind his back as his head ducks a little, “get out of headquarters to… to, um, come visit you all.”

There’s a grin that splits Hunk’s face, wide and excited as it is satisfied, “no way, so Kolivan wants you to visit us?”

“Seems that ways,” comes quiet and somewhat begrudging, the tone unwilling to divulge any further information.

“Aw, he does have a soft side behind that scary, brooding look he has.”

It’s where planning for a further in-depth attack against the more major parts of the rebel groups that are leading the dash for a power grab that is the main discussion, as well as Sendak’s movements as he is marked as the main contender for the desire for a power shift.

Lotor is seated beside Keith, which Lance can’t help but notice in amusement how much smaller Keith is compared to Lotor, and the form-fitting angles of the Blade’s suit doesn’t do any favors toward outlining Keith with any kind of muscled physique. It’s actually quite comical, noticing how Lotor must have inherited his father’s—

(And wow, that’s still something that they’re all still trying to get used, to process, and just how layered that statement, that fact is. Lance would absolutely hate to see what kind of dinner conversations they have with Lotor’s little… big disdain for his father is.

Lance has had some epic drama in his family, almost to near civil wars in his family, but that? That’s, like, universe epic drama, one that would probably lead to a planet being destroyed in a fit of a temper tantrum. He can just see Zarkon taking out his rage on a planet with an ion canon as Lotor refuses to make his curfew ‘cause he wants to stay out longer to be with Allu—his crush and was going to use that planet for the location of his date.

Geez.)

—Galra genes in the tall department. This has led to him, along with Pidge and Hunk, to debate if Keith will ever grow taller. Pidge is certainly interested in Keith’s genetic makeup—just why, exactly, do human features seem to be the dominant genes, which leads to them thinking about Keith being purple and how cute—Hunk’s words, not Lance’s, _never ever_ Lance’s—that would be.

However, as much as Lance won’t admit it, he really balks at the idea of Keith being taller than him. That’s just no.

 _No_.

(“Lance, you’re only, like, two inches taller than him.”

“That’s still two inches better than him, every inch counts.”)

What a nightmare that would be.

Back to the current mission at hand, Lotor has himself seated next to Keith, away from his usual position around Allura or Shiro, which is sort of odd, but no one really questions it or looks past the surface. Shiro is talking about the potential meeting of certain Galra leaders that seems like an alliance is forming, but Lance’s attention is caught when Keith speaks.

“Well, there seems to be a major supply line that runs through the Kentla quadrant, that is a major supply line of quintessence that the Blades have identified. Could it be possible they all are trying to gain control of that line?”

Shiro looks like he’s about to say something, but there’s that familiar, formed feeling of having to best Keith in any way possible that rears up through Lance’s throat, and it’s bright and white hot from how long it’s been punt up in his lungs. It’s been so long since Lance has been able to get the opportunity to dunk on Keith.

Is it a little mean? Not really, Lance has never considered it to be, but in Lance’s opinion, Keith deserves to be humbled and let it be known that he’s not the hot shot pilot he seems to think he is. There’s no harm in it, and besides, Lance thinks Keith should be used to it as he’s constantly shutting people down, so it’s only fair that Keith get what he serves to other people.

(Sure, there could be some self-projection, there could be a lot of things that is the undercurrent of his animosity toward Keith that Lance doesn’t like or want to examine. There can be a lot of things, things that drive his constant need to best Keith in everything, to put him down in everything. Lance thinks he’s just better, he really is, and he likes to know that he’s better, and he wants Keith to know that he continues to be better than him.

Lance will prove why he’s a better fit for the fighter pilot program, that Keith should have been the cargo pilot, and Lance will let it be known to the world as it should be.)

“Oh, so you’re actually planning things out that don’t involve rushing into it, guns blazing? I guess the Blades are good for something if they could teach you that.”

The tone has a mocking undertone with self-satisfaction embedded into it, as Lance is trying to goad Keith into responding to him. Lance thinks he may have succeeded as he sees Keith’s brows come together, his eyes narrowing, and probably drawing himself up to respond—

A chair screeches back, the sound sudden and quick that it draws the room’s attention. Lotor is standing, his shoulders are pushed back, his back is straight, and his eyes are locked onto Lance as an expression of disdain curls so openly on his face, and so very hostile in its appearance. Lance can feel a crescendo in his chest that his heart has decided that would be a lovely tempo to start, and Lance can feel the tensing of his muscles, ready to spring forward (not really, he’d spring back and away but no one needs to know that) at Lotor’s smallest move.

The movement has Pidge jolting, her chin slipping off her hand as her propped elbow slips as she comes to attention, blinking ad very obviously confused. Hunk’s shoulders jump, and he nearly falls from his chair as it startled him. Shiro stops talking, cut off in a haze of confusion and moved away from his position as Allura has also startled. Keith had moved away from Lotor in that dash, obviously confused and looking at Lotor as the attention of the room centers on the half-Galra.

“If you have nothing of value to contribute to the conversation, then you will not speak,” is sharp from Lotor’s tongue; it’s knife-edged and cool, poised at Lance to deliver a lethal strike that Lance will no doubt be unable to recover from, “I highly advice you to not put down another comrade’s input. Allies are needed in this war and you will not jeopardize them with your distaste for them.”

Lance will not admit it, not even to himself if he can avoid it, that Lotor’s full height, the broadness of his body, the sharp cold that is displayed on his face, that reminds Lance that Lotor is… intimidating, that it has Lance’s heart slamming against his ribs.

“Okay, geez, I was just teasing—”

“Now is not the time for this. We are within the midst of the collapse of the Galra Empire, so close to obtaining the peace that this universe has long since deserved, and you wish to jeopardize it for mere games?”

Lance doesn’t really know what to say.

It’s not that fucking serious, in his opinion.

It seems as though Hunk’s remembered where he is, snapping out his gaping at Lotor, and Lance knows he can always rely on Hunk to come to his rescue as he opens his mouth, but nothing comes out, and oh, the let down and disappointment that twists into his chest when Hunk doesn’t come to his aid is sharp.

Lance is completely on his own.

“Keith’s input is a valuable asset to this cause and you will not put down that advice because you disagree with it.”

Keith’s entire demeanor is bewildered now, his brows coming together, looking at Lotor before he looks to Lance.

“It’s okay, Lotor.”

Lotor’s body softens, and a shift in his body is so visible that it’s like Lotor wasn’t about to leap across the table and crush Lance’s head under his boot. It’s almost comical, the way he’s reacting to Lance and Keith, the contrast almost creating a whiplash of emotion that leaves the air in a disarray over how fast the change occurred.

“Keith, it is of the most importance that you are able to contribute to the cause.”

There’s a shift in Keith’s body, whether it’s from confusion at the sudden change in Lotor’s demeanor, the quick change in topics that now centers around him, or that uncomfortable position he’s been placed into now that the room’s attention is now drawn to him from Lotor’s previous statement, knowing exactly how Keith isn’t quite the fan of being the center of attention.

“Uh... thanks, but you don’t have t—”

“Keith,” and what a soft emphasis Lotor’s tone takes, “you’re an important piece in this war. I value your input and what you have to say about what can happen. I won’t turn away your advice.”

Okay.

That’s happening.

Keith is visibly holding back on something, and what that is, no one really knows. Lance can see the disbelief on Hunk and Pidge’s faces at where this seems to have gone. Lance glances a look at Shiro, who seems to be confused and looks like he’s holding himself back from approaching this. Allura (wow, she looks good, but she always looks goo—wait, focus) is gaping, a frown between her brows as she’s struggling to make sense of why this meeting is now this odd combination of Lotor’s seeming intention to… _comfort_ Keith about Lance’s own (snide) comment and assurance of his skills.

It’s a little jarring.

“I have faith what you will be able to bring to this effort, Keith,” oh, he’s not done, apparently, “do not doubt that.”

The entire atmosphere of room has become thick with something, a quality that Lance doesn’t know what to put his finger on, but whatever it is, it’s got this—and Lance wants balk at this for its mere developing existence in his mind—intimate… quality. There’s something about the softness in the taller violet-skinned man’s tone that suggests a reverent tone with Keith, something that’s used to soothe, and all the other descriptions that Lotor wants to be with Keith that the tan-skinned man doesn’t want to think about for the purpose that it would make things really fucking weird.

Pidge’s eyebrows are raised high, into her hairline, and her mouth agape, very openly gawking.

Hunk is fidgeting, trying to look somewhere else that easily fails to hide how he’s trying to look like he’s not trying to openly stare.

Shiro, too, looks at a loss for words, but is also, Lance notes, trying to establish that weird mental link he and Keith share that Lance would really like to decipher cause it’s totally not fair that Keith gets to know Shiro like that. Shiro is Lance’s hero, and Lance would very much like to have a relationship with Shiro that’s close like Keith’s is with him. It’s not fair that Keith get to know Shiro like that and nobody else does; who does he think he is capitalizing on Shiro’s attention like that—okay, this is off topic, the mahogany-haired man needs to focus.

Allura is very visibly confused, still not understanding.

“That’s… uh… I appreciate that,” and it sounds more like a question that Keith’s words are framed into, and Lance doesn’t want to look into it too closely, and he must be hallucinating, but there’s a redness that is sprawled onto his cheeks.

“You’re welcome, little Blade.”

Lance squints at both of them.

Okay.

“As… you were—saying, Shiro?” and it’s very obvious that Keith is trying to turn the conversation around, clearly uncomfortable with the attention on him. There’s a pleading look in his eyes that Shiro seems to understand. It’s more of that weird telepathic link they both share because there is a moment where Shiro pauses, a clear look of concern on his face. His hand twitches, and it’s like he’s fighting the urge to place his hand on Keith’s shoulder, which Lance has noted that Shiro’s hand seems to like spending time on.

With a nod, Shiro clears his throat, trying to find his groove again, and continues. It’s a little awkward, the energy isn’t quite there but Lance supposes that it’s a little hard to come back from what just happened.

( _That you started_ , a rational part of his mind whispers.

 _Nope, it’s always Keith’s fault_ , and that rings satisfaction through Lance.

Everything is right in the world—well, universe.)

Lance sinks into his chair and lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

 

 

\--

 

 

It doesn’t end there.

 

 

\--

 

 

2.

 

They all understand that the situation they’ve found themselves in has brought forth endless possibilities, has created a story with no linear script that can’t hold any real structure to establish itself to make everything into a sequence of scheduled events. Their routine isn’t established as all these new possibilities become endless and waiting at different times to become a reality that changes their entire perspective. Everyday, there’s something new, something more, something _grand_ , but it doesn’t always happen that way.

It walks through their present to invent the future.

But this this day dawns a new meaning to all the possibilities that want to take place.

It starts small, with Lotor being in the places that Keith has been to. He’s there, hovering, and looks to be hesitating at moments before he moves on.

Lotor will just stand there, inspecting for something, and he’ll just…move his shoulder, loll his head around or a few moments, before he leans against the wall or door or whatever it is, and he’ll stand there for a moment before he pushes off. He’ll linger there for a moment, his nostrils flaring for a moment before he steps away from it. No one quite knows what this is supposed to be, what it even is, but no one is around when he does this. Lotor will give it a once over, determining that it’s fit for whatever he’s planning, and leaves it.

It doesn’t garner any attention, not at first, as Lotor doesn’t take many trips back to those areas, maybe once every week, even when Keith isn’t in the vicinity. He seems to come to places that Keith frequents when the ex-paladin visits the Castle of Lions. It’s… odd, but it doesn’t happen enough that anyone really notices it, or just brushes it off as some weird Galra behavior—or could it be Altean? No one really knows for sure, but maybe it’s just Lotor behavior because no one comes out of being raised by a tyrannical dictator that was on the path to ruining the universe unscathed.

Keith’s standing near the training room, hovering there are he seems to check over something on his holoscreen and his brows pinching the longer his hand moves over it. His mouth frown before his face relaxes, sighing as he puts his arm down and begins to walk from the area.

Hunk happens to be the same area, just walking around, exploring cause there’s still so much of the Castle that he’s not seen, and he’s very interested to see what it holds.

Okay, so he’s a little bored, it happens to people, no big deal, so he’s gonna let his feet take him wherever they want to go.

Hunk happens to be passing through, beside the doors to the training deck before he stops when he hears his name—rather, his color.

“Yellow paladin,” and there’s that accent, and Hunk is somewhat surprised that Lotor is talking to him that’s not related to Galra tactics or insurgences or whatever topic it that is related war.

But also, Lotor really does have a rich person’s accent.

 _Like really rich British people_ , Hunk would think if they, you know, weren’t apart of a military effort to conquer the known universe. Just a little less of the last part.

It isn’t until Lotor is in front of him—okay, Hunk is a little nervous about being alone with Lotor, like, completely alone with him without anyone else around him to see him or be potential witnesses.

Hunk tries to not fidget—(can Galra smell fear? They can totally smell fear, can’t they? Oh god.)—under Lotor’s gaze, very aware of the height disparity between them and how emphasized it is. Hunk isn’t a small guy by any means, and he’s nearly Shiro’s height, and he’s usually the one looking down at people. But this is some kind of weird position that biracial man is trying to get used to, finding it very out of place having to raise his head to look at someone.

“I was wondering if you have seen Keith?”

Hunk’s internal monologue about their heights and how odd it is stops as his mind almost fails to catch up to what Lotor is asking.

“You… want to find Keith?”

Lotor shifts, “I have much to discuss with him about Galra traditions, seeing that he is also of Galra heritage.”

Okay, a little weird cause no one is usually looking for Keith, except for Shiro, but Hunk’s always accepted that they’ve got an intense friendship and there aren’t any real words that can properly describe it, nor can Hunk understand that telepathic speech they’ve somehow mastered, or the looks they throw each other that the other immediately knows what the other is asking. Not even Lance can manage that with him.

Off track again.

“You’re looking for Keith? Like, looking for him? Usually no one’s looking for him, except for Shiro, but he’s different and knows how to understand Keith, which I admit, no one is fluent in Keith, except him.”

Hunk may be imagining it, and Hunk knows that he has a very active imagination, especially when it comes to worse case scenarios playing out that he knows he should stop allowing his mind to play into, but he thinks maybe, just maybe, Lotor’s eyes narrow and his demeanor shifts into something that Hunk can’t quite place, but it’s a little more closed off, a little more defensive, and that sort of puts Hunk on edge.

There’s something different in his expression, something that Hunk can’t identify completely, but if he were to try, there’s something about the mention of Shiro’s name and his relationship to Keith that has him into this different mood. Hunk isn’t quite sure what is happening, but he doesn’t really want to know and get embroiled into something that he doesn’t understand because Lotor has some kind of Galra or Altean mix of behavior that he can’t make sense of.

“Is that right? Shiro was here with Keith?”

Hunk feels something; it’s at the bottom of his stomach that begins an ascent up his spine, a feeling that inspire tension in his body. It’s that sharpened look in Lotor’s eyes, something with disdain in them if Hunk wanted to be honest, and it inspires an excuse about saving face on something’s behalf that Hunk doesn’t exactly know what it’s supposed to be, but he feels compelled to defend.

“Well, Keith was just here, he was coming out of the training deck’s doors and Shiro wasn’t with him. I mean, the last time I saw Shiro, he was doing something else that wasn’t with Keith,” and Hunk knows he’s rambling, he knows he’s just prolonging this odd atmosphere but when he’s nervous, he’s nothing but word vomit. It’s a behavior that the dark-skinned man knows he needs to work on, and it could potentially save him from very unsavory situations, but that moment, that time, is not now.

Lotor looks at the training deck’s doors, seemingly assessing something of them, and Hunk takes this opportunity to inch back, sliding further away as much as he can without alerting Lotor.

“He, um, likes to hang out in the training deck. Keith was a pretty big fan of the training deck and spent a lot of time there before he left for the Blade of Marmora.”

There’s a shift in Lotor’s stance, something now inquisitive as his body seems to loosen.

The yellow paladin doesn’t know if he wants the context that older man is putting this all into.

“There’s a pretty good chance that Keith will be back, I know he likes to always be prepared for whenever something strikes. Even the smallest alien doesn’t make it past him.”

Lotor hums, and, “I see. Thank you for the assistance.”

And like that, Lotor seems to be finished with him as he begins to walk toward the training deck, head craning to look at the doors as he stops in front of them.

Hunk doesn’t really know what to do and it seems a little rude to just stand around and watch Lotor do whatever things he does whenever no one is around and figures he should just go and be somewhere that doesn’t involve being in Lotor’s presence when he’s doing… that, whatever it is.

Before Hunk is completely out of range, he thinks he hears Lotor sniff the air.

 

 

\--

 

 

It just continues to grow.

 

 

\--

 

 

3.

 

Pidge happens to be walking by the kitchen one day in one of her many episodes of not being able to sleep due to discoveries of the universe that keeps her mind constantly running at the possibilities they would possess for the advancement of sciences. The universe is endless, it’s a vast space that has so little exploration of it that it continues to churn Pidge’s imagination with all the unknowns waiting to be discovered.

When the Castle of Lions was being pursued by Zarkon’s endless desire to obtain the black lion, when sleep deprivation was at their heels and biting into the soft skin of their Achilles heel, when single shapes became four, the burn of sleep behind their eyes, Pidge had no state of mind to actually enjoy being inside of a magnetic storm, to see the wonders of what went on around them and how she had a front row seat of seeing one a natural wonder to take place within the galaxy.

Pidge considers herself lucky in that she gets to see the wonders of the universe that the human eye has only ever dreamed of seeing. The anomalies of black holes, the collapse of nearby stars that die that she is safe from under the protective gaze of the Caste’s particle barriers—there’s so many things she’s bared witness to, was allowed to see, and it wasn’t through some lenses of a high-powered telescope that can only give her a limited study of.

To see those things, happening in real time, is a wonder to her ever-fascinated and expanding mind.

However, there are just some sights that can’t be quite placed by a scientific analysis.

Pidge happens to be trying to find a snack to help get her through the night (or day, time is kind of weird but the Castle tries to simulate a day and night kind of schedule) cause it’s one of those times where she’s too hungry to go to sleep, knowing that she’ll be wakened later on from stomach pains that inquire why she hasn’t tried to eat something. To avoid that, she has decided to try to eat something, maybe have some leftovers from Hunk’s anomalous creation that was somewhat aesthetically pleasing—once a person learns to get over the decidedly awkward look to many of the alien ingredients they now regularly come across, it becomes easier to accept that you’re going to eat some really shady-looking dishes that have a surprisingly pleasant taste.

Pidge can feel the settle of sleep under her skin, and it’s a feeling she knows she won’t be able to fend off and will absolutely inhibit her research into the latest thing that has caught her attention, so the green paladin is going to finish off the night with a big snack and let herself get at least seven hours.

It’s a good rest.

Instead, as Pidge is ready to turn the corner, she stops when she sees a shadow pass over the wall from the kitchen. There’s a wave of suspicion that travels up her spine, quick in its ascent, as Pidge freezes in the hall, unable to bring herself to move as she watches the wall and the shadow that moves across it.

Now, Pidge is a firm believer of science, she examines things through a lens that tries to understand something on an atomic level, the genetic makeup of something that can easily explain the existence of something, and with hard scientific knowledge and evidence that can explain the existence of anything and everything.

To her, a person may hate science, may not believe in it, but no matter how much someone hates it, it cannot be disproved.

Scientific fact will always to precedence over a subjective belief or opinion.

However, in this very moment, at this very hour—this very minute, Pidge has a moment of crisis as the shadow moves.

Pidge doesn’t think, her mouth is frozen, her lungs are locked, her throat become an unwilling prisoner of her body as her eyes are fixated on the kitchen’s doorway. The shadow moves across the wall, it seems to join in with something that disappears, and Pidge can’t figure out what to do.

There are no equations, there isn’t a whirling of cogs in her mind that grinds together in an effort to produce a product that Pidge can feasibly understand because there, right there, there’s something that’s moving that shouldn’t—

Oh.

Well, isn’t that just the most anticlimactic thing.

Pidge’s entire body relaxes when she sees the shadow step off the wall and into the doorway to only reveal Lotor, for whatever reason, who was rummaging through the kitchen at this hours (it’s one in the morning, or at least according to the clock she tried to base off Earth’s current time with a lot of calculations and equations going into it, a lot more than she wants to admit).

Pidge is going to blame this entire lapse of her own cognitive thinking on the sleep deprivation that has been plaguing her mind.

No one will ever know that she failed to think out a logical explanation for all of this.

Instead, Pidge is curious to see Lotor up so—oh, he has a plate of food.

So even the son of Zarkon can get hungry.

Instead, Pidge watches as Lotor comes closer, pausing, and “Pidge, was it?”

Pidge admits to herself that her name sounds really fancy in that accent. Must be an Altean thing since Allura and Coran have the same inflections.

Lotor’s hands carry a plate of food, and the light is a little too dim to tell what it is, the barest amount present to simulate a night time hour, but Pidge doesn’t look into it too much. The green paladin rubs at her eyes, a yawn at the end of her throat, and she’s about to proceed with her search for a nightly snack (probable meal) when Lotor’s voice catches her ear.

“Pidge, I want to ask you a question.”

That certainly perks her interest.

“I may be able to help.”

There’s something different about Lotor’s demeanor now, a kind of hesitance that displays with the shift of his body, and that instantly places a curiosity into Pidge’s mind. An association of nervousness usually doesn’t accompany Lotor’s movements—they’re all precise, the movements deliberate, and there is no room for a hesitance or deviation from what he plans to enact. Seeing this difference in his behavior, in his body language, sets something on edge in Pidge like she’s ready to prepare for the worst kind of ending when there’s been no real evidence of needing to be prepared for some kind of catastrophe.

“I have a question about your previous black paladin, Keith.”

Pidge makes a face, unable to help herself because this is one of the last things that she would have ever thought would come up. Her entire body slumps in a way that should express relief as it uncoils from expecting something of a terrible nature, relieved of the stress building up, but it’s in a way that expresses her surprise at Keith, of all things, being a topic of one that Lotor expresses an interest in.

There’s not really much that someone can be interested in that pertains to Keith.

You can’t really get much from someone who’s closed off and doesn’t let people in—unless you’re Shiro, but anyone would let him in, and Keith is no exception to that rule—and doesn’t share his past or present with them. It’s not that Pidge would say Keith is completely at fault, she knows that none of them don’t really reach out to him or try to make time to hang out with him, or really ask anything of him when it comes to doing activities. The petite girl doesn’t like to admit to herself that, along with Hunk and Lance, form this tight knit group that does everything together without the thought of asking anyone else to join them, so content in their friend circle that it just doesn’t cross any of their minds to have someone else come into their group.

Pidge knows it doesn’t make her a bad person, it doesn’t mean they’re trying to exclude anyone else, or even not want people to join them. It’s just… they’re so used to it being just the three of them, for the last few years, it’s just only been _them_ , against the Garrison, against the world, against the _universe,_ and they’ve grown so comfortable in what has been established.

It’s just that Keith becomes quiet and blends into something in a way that tells people he doesn’t want to be seen, he doesn’t want to be found, and light-haired girl doesn’t like to admit that she’s allowed that image to be retained and has followed it. It’s on her bucket list, if she gets to that age (well, what a depressing thought that is but holds too much of a possible outcome), she wants to see what’s behind that façade, that wall Keith pushes up between him and the world and see what kind of person Keith can truly be without all these safeguards in place.

Back to the question on hand.

“Okay,” she allows after a moment, “go ahead.”

Lotor shifts again, his fingers tightening on the plate he has.

“I was curious about why Keith came to the decision to leave Voltron. Did he not find a true purpose here?”

In actuality, Pidge doesn’t quite know why Keith chose to leave, why he didn’t see a place them here, and Keith hasn’t truly elaborated why, but she has this suspicion that it has to do with trying to place Shiro back into the team and his refusal to take that away from Shiro, as well as not wanting to force one of them out of a lion just to go back to the way the dynamics used to be. Pidge thinks about how Lance would refuse to take his lion back now that Allura is in it, and also knows he’d struggle with the idea of having no lion, and that would ensue a kind of identity crisis and a mid-life in one go.

They never pushed for a reason while knowing that Keith wouldn’t give them a complete one, but Shiro made it clear that he was going to support Keith—they all were, and it had been enough for them.

Pidge clears her throat, taking a breath before, “I actually don’t know the answer to that completely.”

She can see the interested look on Lotor’s face.

Pidge moves a little, shifting her weight to one foot as she stares down, “Keith never really explained to us why he wanted to leave. I guess it had to do with wanting Shiro to be the black lion’s paladin again. Keith never actually wanted to be the black paladin—he felt like he was taking it away from Shiro, and he fought against it for a little while. But then,” and Pidge kinda winces at this, “we sort of put him in a position that he couldn’t refuse, but we didn’t have much of a choice in the first place, but then the lion chose him and very reluctantly, he piloted Black.”

Pidge ends up clasping her hands around her elbows as her arms fold across her chest.

“I don’t think he was happy in the black lion, but he did it cause that’s what Shiro wanted, and then Shiro came back and Keith was already doing things with the Blade of Marmora. I think the Blade might have been an excuse to give up the black lion to Shiro, but I think that Keith just didn’t want Shiro to feel like he didn’t have a purpose, nor did he want to make someone else give up their lion just to go back to how we used to be.”

Lotor is silent as he seems to absorb the information and Pidge glances a look at him. The biracial alien seems to be mulling this over, tasting the information before he decides to make a decision. His head is tilted to another angle, his eyes staring off an undescribed location with a sort of longing to his face that pidge doesn’t know what to make of.

“Being forced into a situation with no other alternatives, and instead, a noble cause was created of it,” and that’s soft, like it’s supposed to be something kept to himself and harbored for no one else, but Pidge doesn’t speak.

“I want to be able to help him understand that he has a place. For too long, the Galra have looked down upon people like me, like Keith, for our mixed blood. I want to create a world where Galra half-breeds can live peacefully alongside our full-blooded brethren without fear. For too long, the Galra have maintained a purity amongst their own blood and that mixed blood is lesser.”

Lotor turns his head back to Pidge, who’s now fully staring at him, a kind of look on her face that she isn’t aware of.

“You may not have noticed it as you never grew up in the Galra Empire, but it is a prevalent belief. A mixed Galra is as good as not being a Galra. I have spent countless pheobs trying to go beyond what people have expected of me, what my _own_ people would expect of me, but to them,” and Lotor’s eyes narrow, “I am nothing more than a Galra that’s been dirtied by other blood.”

Pidge doesn’t have any words to describe what has seemed to come of the situation, but if she were to try, there would be something close to forming a kind of mesmerized interest in what Lotor is saying.

Lotor lowers his hands, the plate going with it as he seems to stare down the food on the plate, a sense of determination that crosses his face.

“I will show the Galra, to all races, that your mixed blood doesn’t limit you from the things you can achieve,” and there, Pidge can barely see it, but it’s there, a softened smile etches into the corners of violet-skinned man’s mouth, “I want to show Keith that there is no reason to be ashamed of your mixed blood.”

Huh.

The green paladin doesn’t quite know the emotion that could be described on Lotor’s face, or what it could point to, but there’s something at the back of Pidge’s mind, crouched low and waiting, that piques her interest. There’s a meaning behind those words, there’s something that Pidge isn’t quite seeing, but it springs forth a familiar feeling that is also too vague I a sense for her to recognize fully. This reverence, this softness, and—

Something clicks.

Instead of analyzing it, instead of looking through it further, the auburn-haired girl decides to leave it alone.

Hey, it’s also, like, one in the morning by Earth’s time.

Pidge decides to shake it off, and she moves to end this conversation—well, Lotor’s philosophy of where he stands.

“I’m sure that one day, maybe we can get there,” and Pidge begins to walk, moving her feet to go behind Lotor, feeling his eyes pressed against her back to a point of it feeling like a phantom touch, “but you know,” and this is where Pidge turns around, trying to level a gaze at him that can be seen as supportive, “maybe with your help, it can really happen.”

Pidge knows she’s not really great with the whole comforting thing. She may have someone crying on her shoulder, tears that make her shoulder wet and sobs that Pidge catches in her hands but unsure how to properly take care of them, only offering, “that’s rough, buddy,” as her means of condolences. She’s not great at it, but that doesn’t mean she’s not gonna try.

There’s a smile that shapes Lotor’s mouth, something calm and content about it. “Thank you for listening,” and he sounds sincere, and Pidge welcomes this change in the daily grind of seriousness and that is etched into his being. Sure, Pidge sort of strays away from emotional aspects of things due to her being unsure how to handle it, but this is something easy, something she can handle.

Lotor glances back down to his food, “I guess I will take this to Keith and talk to him about his lineage.”

That certainly snares Pidge’s attention and her eyes narrow in disbelief.

“It’s a little early—or late depending on what you prefer, to be doing that.”

Lotor turn toward the door and gives her a look over his shoulder.

“He was on the training deck when I had passed by. It is also a Galra tradition to offer food to a comrade as an expression of comradery, and I want to thank Keith for his invaluable information and willingness of the Blades for working with us.”

That... sounds pretty reasonable, and Pidge doesn’t know anything about Galra traditions to truly comment on it, so it doesn’t sound suspicious.

With that, Lotor begins to stride out of the kitchen, leaving Pidge in her pajamas in the middle of the kitchen. Instead of dwelling on it any further, Pidge goes to the fridge and her stomach loudly lets her know just what has been neglected.

 

 

\--

 

 

4.

 

“And in the Unalterus quadrant, there are two supply routes that the Blades have—”

Allura flanks Keith’s left side, watching as his fingers are outstretched, pointing and shifting the navigator’s holographic projection of the universe, shifting, spinning and reorienting it as he explains one of the advancements of the Blade of Marmora’s missions into infiltrating major quintessence factories. There are intricate plans that have been set in place for such a long time, all worked in such a secrecy and the delicacy in which all of them have been carried out makes her humble to know that they are being shared with her,

She is joined by Shiro, who is on Keith’s right side, his attention rapt and centered on Keith’s explanations of how the Blade’s are continuing to monitor these crucial areas for the fractured Galra Empire and how it’s likely there will be a power struggle to control these precarious factories of quintessence, occasionally adding his own input, whether it be to ask for further clarification, or to tell Keith how he’s impressed because of Keith’s skill and giving his routine words of encouragement and soft-spoken praise on what Keith is doing.

It’s a usual behavior between both of them, and so much of it is shared with a look, some kind of physical touch that becomes a kind of anchor, and this airy emotion that only seems to spin this atmosphere of a private affair that isn’t really meant for anyone on the outside. Sometimes Allura feels like she’s intruding, like there’s some kind of intimacy there that ties these two together so vividly and tightly.

It’s a kind of friendship that Allura has rarely come across in all her years, an intense, unyielding devotion that both are whole-hearterdly dedicated to.

She also notes that this is something Lotor doesn’t seem to be accustomed to.

The princess doesn’t quite know what to put her finger on, and she may be just imagining it out of some form of curiosity that has become piqued, and correct her if she’s wrong, but there’s this sort of (and Allura must be seeing something that isn’t there) quality to Lotor’s stance that is uncomfortable.

The biracial prince seems to be on edge.

Allura wants to inquire about this, she has the urge to stop Keith’s explanation about the Blade’s positions and its vitalness to the rebels currently in that area, and study Lotor’s rigidness and (oh, well isn’t that quant) and the stature he seems to take around them.

Specifically, she notes it when Shiro’s hand sits on Keith’s shoulder in the usual display of encouragement, in their own self-created language that only seems to only be crafted specifically for them. Allura tries to pay attention, she really does, but she’s too curious to study Lotor and the perceived disapproval he has at this. Is Galran culture really opposed to such casual intimacy between two people that aren’t lovers or of blood relationship? Has Galran culture really changed that much that such displays aren’t to be expressed?

This is supposed to be a meeting between all of them about the information Keith has brought back with him from a recent mission that lasted several weeks, this is were everything is supposed to be linear and follow a sequence of events that hardly deviates. It’s just another briefing that doesn’t hold any standout traits from the previous ones, and it shouldn’t produce any different results than what it’s intended for.

Shiro leans in closer, his hand falling off Keith’s shoulder, and the snow-haired woman sees the relaxation of Lotor’s posture, but it’s only fractional.

See, Allura has been brought up her life to assume such diplomatic duties and performances that she was trained to understand the body language of future dignitaries to gauge just how she should try to appeal to them and if her own appeals are working like they’re intended.

So, this is very intriguing to see Lotor take a kind of offense to this.

As she’s contemplating this, there’s movement from Lotor, and he’s moving, stepping forward, placing himself closely to Keith’s side, extending out an arm and pointing a clawed finger against the hologram, adding his own input about how the tactics of a certain Galran squadron is in that area and how it may prove difficult. Lotor’s entire body seems to put on this presence that Allura isn’t sure what it’s supposed to be.

Lotor is close to Keith, he’s nearly leaning over the smaller half-Galra, his size nearly dwarfing Keith in this odd display that has some kind of vague understanding in Allura’s mind.

Allura knows she’s being uncharacteristically quiet, that she would be offering all kinds of input about strategy formation and how Voltron could be used as a backup muscle power should a front line of defense fail, but this is something she doesn’t quite feel like interrupting. It’s this curiosity that tends to separate her from the others in the room, that representation from a different planet or culture shouldn’t hold, but Allura has never quite been able to be rid of it.

Oh, Lotor seems to be pressing into Keith’s space further, and Keith doesn’t seem to notice it, or at least he’s not giving away his emotion on Lotor’s seemingly decreased space between him and the prince. Lotor’s voice seems to come out more forceful, his movements are becoming more pointed, as he cuts Shiro off about a potential position for the rebels to be placed for further surveillance on a key Galra member that’s in the lead for the power struggle. Shiro frowns, his mouth curling at the corners as Lotor doesn’t seem to entertain Shiro’s input. Shiro seems to shake it off, probably reminding himself who he was talking to, and Shiro’s rationality has always been one of his strong points, and he must be internally fighting to not push Lotor back.

It is somewhat of an uneasy alliance as there’s so much that the team could use from Lotor, and his invaluable knowledge of the Galra’s inner workings and operations, but it doesn’t help that Lotor seems to be… pushy, if the that’s what Allura seems to put a name to it. Allur wants to put her hand up and cover her mouth and giggle, amused—even though she knows she isn’t supposed to be—at this seeming power struggle between two alpha males—well, rather, it’s not so much as a power struggle, but seemingly all of it centering on Keith.

Why it’s centered on Keith, Allura doesn’t quite know, but it’s something to behold seeing.

Shiro seems to counter something Lotor says, almost cutting him off, as the black paladin points out a flaw in the rebel force’s engineering plans and their engines being unable to support the same hyper speed that a Galra ship can, and that the speed wouldn’t be enough to outwit the Galra if things go awry. This seems to sour Lotor, who straightens from over Keith’s shoulder. Keith has a contemplative look on his face, and it’s either a front that Keith puts up cause he doesn’t have anything else to contribute to the conversation as the politics are now above what he knows, or he really is contemplating what the next move should be. Allura suspects it’s the first, and that Shiro and Lotor are the ones who are mainly planning this out.

The princess supposes that a lot of this planning goes beyond what the Blades have operated in, and Keith himself hasn’t quite gotten the hang of operating in politics and decision planning dealing with multiple moving pieces that are negotiated with others, but he seems to be trying.

Shiro’s hand seems to find Keith’s shoulder when he tries to get Keith’s attention for something and—oh, right there, the twitch of lavender-skinned man’s body, the slight curl of his lip and gone in the next moment.

Lotor steps forward, his full height brought out, as he sees to insert himself between Shiro and Keith, a forceful movement that seems to catch both off guard, separating and stepping back as Lotor begins to go into some tirade about whatever it is that Allura doesn’t catch because her brows are pushed up toward her hairline, her mouth somewhat ajar, as she watches Lotor forcefully separate their connection. What this seems to be borne of, the Altean doesn’t know, but this is certainly hampering the atmosphere.

It’s less of a meeting about battle tactics and more of…

More of…

A competition declared from Keith’s attention,

Does Lotor have a problem with their relationship? Does he think people of non-romantic status need to be like this? Does he disapprove of this due to the situation?

Allura has all these vague, unformed questions that sit at the back of her throat, all with a wonder and curiosity that is not appropriate or contributes in any way, but she’s so curious.

It’s a good thing the others aren’t around, no doubt would Hunk have commented in this, the yellow paladin having a poor filter when it comes to so many situations that Allura doesn’t know what will trigger it. Lance’s endless antagonism of Keith would have certainly derailed this—or maybe it wouldn’t, not with the way Lotor seemingly barred his teeth at Lance for his usual comments toward Keith. Comments that earned the tinge of apprehension at considering doing that again. Pidge’s own inability to navigate politics would have shown, her own brand of awkwardness similar to Hunk’s.

It’s small blessings.

Lotor turns around to look a Shiro and Keith—specifically, looking at Shiro and this—this look in his eyes is what catches Allura’s attention.

Allura knows she should be saying something, she really does, and when she steps forward, there’s a sharpened tone Lotor wields toward Shiro, one that specifically is aimed to challenge Shiro’s entire plan, and it’s almost confrontational in its presentation.

This is certainly getting out of control.

Allura does step forward, mostly formed words at the end of her tongue that she’s not sure will defuse the situation, but she tries, “Lotor, it’s not that I don’t agree with your assessment of the rebel forces’ opportunities, but we do not have the same kind of funding that the Galra Empire has for many deca-pheobes. We just simply cannot cover the same amount of area that you may be used to.”

They’re still on the topic of the rebel forces and the coalition’s ability to respond quickly to any imminent attack, no matter how small scale, and it’s quite obvious that Lotor understands this, has even been taking into account the smaller size and the limited mobility without a wormhole. There has been discussion of the rebels contacting Allura to be able to request wormholes, and if it can be something to test out, but so far, there hasn’t been too much. The Blade of Marmora is stretched thin across multiple areas of interest and may not be able to pull off as many things that are being planned.

“It’s not that I don’t trust your judgement,” and his expression couldn’t mean anymore opposite, especially when it’s directed at Shiro, who also has drawn himself up to his own stature; outside of the context of this meeting, it would look comical, where Shiro’s full height, large for a human from what the Altean has heard of, barely comes up to Lotor’s lower sternum, dwarfing him but not as much as he would Keith, or even Pidge.

The biracial prince’s eyes are still trained on Shiro, but they do spare a moment to glimpse Allura, “but the process in which you explain the power of the existing coalition and rebel forces do not bring the results that we need.”

Shiro’s jaw works, and Keith, sensing this change in Shiro, directs his attention to the taller man, “Shiro, it’s okay, I’ll have the Blades—”

“We cannot rely on the Blade of Marmora to be there and guide every step.”

There’s a narrowing of Keith’s eyes and his arms crossing, obviously not happy at being cut off, and it shows through the stiffening of his shoulders. However, a funny little thing happens: Lotor’s entire demeanor, the aggressive stance he took, the full height he has brought himself up to, has shifted, and she can almost see the deflation. The lilac-skinned man seems to let his ears droop, and (oh, isn’t that _something_ ) there’s a darkened hue across Lotor’s face, as he almost physically backs down.

Allura tilts her head, and she can practically hear the mice beckoning her to tell them everything about what’s happening and her thoughts, and she could almost swear that Lotor has cut Keith off because he was focused on Shiro.

What is seemingly aggressive behavior that Lotor has with Shiro? Why does it only seem to come out when Shiro is near, or when someone seems to slight Keith that Lotor perceives? What does this have to do with—

With…

Keith.

Huh.

The princess tries to intervene again, “we do appreciate this, all of your input, but we have to acknowledge—”

Lotor draws himself back up, “it is fine, princess, I know that this is a matter of trying to place stretched thin resources into places that need it, and believe me, I know it’s a matter of disagreeing where they should be, and strategies needed to place them. I hold no negative opinion for any of you for trying to see this through.”

This does diffuse the atmosphere, and Allura didn’t realize just how easier she’s breathing since it’s over.

It almost seemed as though Lotor was challenging Shiro on some kind of level. The flare of his nostrils, the narrowed eyes, baring of teeth…

It’s eerily similar to something that the Altean has glimpsed a long time ago, but… no, it’s not that.

It can’t be that.

 

 

\--

 

 

5.

 

It’s not that Lotor’s presence among the paladins is unwelcome.

Lotor has proved to provide so much information, he has proven that he shares the same common interest

There are these… little things that, at first glance, seem to mean nothing. The events seem isolated, the behavior isn’t too standout, but it’s with time that these events begin to snowball down a low incline hill that enough buildup becomes noticeable.

It’s with Shiro collapsing onto the couch in the lounge next Keith, eager to catch up with his best friend and what Keith’s been up to. Keith is always receptive to Shiro’s advances, the eager shine in those violet-colored eyes that brim with the excitement of being in Shiro’s presence. It’s just him and Keith, both trying to catch up and let the other know just how they’re doing.

Keith relays the Blades’ adventures, the odd things he’s seen the Galra do in their spare time, their hobbies, the odd deviation they have in a game that’s really similar to tic tac toe, and how they’re not too different than anyone else. It’s the shroud of secrecy that leads others to be curious about what they’re like, what they do, who are they, and what kind of lives do they lead. Keith explains that it’s the humanization (“It’s kind of a bad choice of words.”) of them behind the scenes that takes away some of their secrecy.

“Not to mention, one of the Blades likes this food that’s really close to mayonnaise, like he can’t get enough of it.”

Keith has talked about his comrades, about their lives, what they’re fighting for, who they’re fighting for, and Shiro can’t help but notice that Keith’s absence from the team has made him long to see his best friend more often, these little moments he has with Keith now fleeting and something to look forward to every time Keith has time off to visit. It doesn’t help that Keith doesn’t visit very often, he can’t at all at times, and it only makes Shiro notice the shaped and developed hole that is present most of the time.

Shiro listens as Keith talks on, a fond smile shaping the corners of his mouth, proud as it is soft, as Keith relays that one habit the Blade members have is to launch food goo outside of the base because it explodes when it’s under a lot of heat and pressure, creates this vivid explosion, that the Blades do in their downtime.

Shiro laughs at something Keith relays, and he’s about to ask for further clarification about something before the doors open, and in walks Lotor, his demeanor composed and standing tall as he looks at them. The taller human is about to greet the prince, but he doesn’t get that far as Lotor interrupts him.

“Keith, I require your assistance,” and well, cutting straight to the point.

Shiro can sense Keith deflate, knowing that the smaller man was looking forwards to catching up with him, as well as this time for them to reconnect being cut short, but Keith understands the severity of what the situation is and why it takes priority over what Keith wants no matter how desperately he wants it. The black paladin also tries to not let the disappointment show on his face, trying to coax out a positive condolence for Keith that they’ll catch up later. Keith sighs, obviously not happy, and still not quite used to being involved in plotting out the moving parts instead of only following them, but he swallows that down.

It makes Shiro proud to see Keith stepping up and letting himself be a part of this, and that he’s slowly coming into a leadership role that Shiro always knew that Keith was destined to come into, no matter how slow it needed to take.

With reluctance, Keith moves himself off the couch, stretching his hands and straightening his spine, and Shiro is moving off the couch, about to excuse himself and looks at Lotor, about to bid him a goodbye and that he’ll talk to Keith later, he notices Lotor staring at Keith. It’s something fleeting, not really caught if one isn’t paying attention, but Shiro notices that Lotor seems to be studying Keith. It’s a question that’s had time to form and gather in his mind, coalescing in small stages but hasn’t become enough of a size to really push his curiosity into an insatiable territory.

It should be logical—Lotor is half-Galra, Keith is also half-Galra, and it should be reasonable to believe that Lotor feels a kind of kinship with Keith, or he wants to establish some kind of connection. Shiro has heard of the stigma against mixed race aliens, knowing that Lotor had generals that were mixed, and that they were ostracized, but the taller man has no idea to what extent. Perhaps the bigger male wants to seek out a comradery with Keith, to help Keith connect with his roots that weren’t taught to him as a child.

It makes Shiro feel better that Keith has more people that he’s befriending, and that h’s expanding his social circle, a far cry from the quiet, lonely boy he met during his many visits to local high schools to spread positivity about the Garrison.

Shiro bids Keith off and may he have good luck.

 

 

\--

 

 

The black paladin is placed on the observation deck, staring out at the mass of black, the swirl of new galaxies, the blend of cosmic dust and warm colors of heat and light that weave together and create the most vivid of displays in a technicolor wash of life and death at the same time. It’s a sight that Shiro sees himself lucky to witness, to see the cosmos to spread out before him with an uninhibited look and study. To pass by these vivid places, to see the birth of a star, the collapse of a planet in a display of a magnificent array of colors and spectacular death.

He loves space, always has, always will.

With him is Keith, standing next to him, both silent as they watch the outside, witnessing the universe, as both of them are enjoying each other’s presence, both not seeing a need to speak. Shiro enjoys these quiet moments, both of them having run out of conversation points minutes ago, and neither feel the need to force a conversation that would feel stilted and stagnant in their purpose, and either are fine to watch space pass them by.

It’s been a while since they’ve seen each other, both eager to catch up again after Keith had to tend to Lotor’s request, and both have taken a moment to go somewhere else, to talk to each other and see how the other is doing.

It’s these times he’s glad Keith is his best friend, to know someone out there is well adept at reading him, at knowing what he needs, what he wants, and doesn’t ask for anything in return, and Shiro couldn’t ask for a better friend.

They both stand on the observation deck, and at some points, they both point out constellations that look similar to the ones they’ve looked at while on Earth, laughing at the inaccuracies and trying to make a case for them to be those constellations. Shiro is ready to ask about how Keith’s mission went, how he’s holding up after because he can tell something happened, and that it could that Keith lost a Blade member on one of those missions.

Just as Shiro is about to ask, about to settle a hand on Keith’s shoulder, when the observatory doors open, and in walks Lotor, his strides long, his shoulders stiff, and there’ this—this look, this…

Shiro doesn’t want to mistake it for something else and knows that he hasn’t quite had enough time to get to know Lotor, to understand his body language, but…

He can’t help but frown at how seemingly aggressive the mixed prince sets foot into the space.

Lotor’s eyes are immediately on Shiro, and Shiro bites his tongue from commenting about their narrowed look, how they want to pin Shiro and not let him move, and Shiro almost does, but he holds himself back. Lotor walks into the room and they don’t really leave Shiro’s form, and Shiro is somewhat on edge because of it.

It’s absurd cause the black paladin knows that Lotor means no harm, Lotor isn’t looking to do something to jeopardize their tentative alliance, but he just can’t help but feel like he’s doing something… wrong, if he’s looking for the word that expresses how he feels, and Lotor is doing all he can to stop from reacting and holding himself back from allowing those words from flowing.

But Shiro also notices that when the older man’s eyes leave him and onto Keith, his entire demeanor softens, his muscles are less taught, his fingers become loose, and is head tilts up and his nostrils flare.

Now, the older human has no way to place what this behavior is supposed to be. He doesn’t know enough about alien biology, about Galran behavior, their instincts, or really anything about beyond what he’s experienced—

(A cacophony of sound, a roar in his ears, wetness down his face and under his chin that stings the open cuts and a grit of teeth as he has to move, he has to go, he has to do _something_ —

No.

He’s not going to fall back into this.)

—and in no way will Shiro act as if he knows what this is supposed to be, but it does lead him to be curious.

Perhaps this is how Galra greet each other?

He doesn’t really know.

It also doesn’t help that Lotor’s presence seems to be forcefully inserting itself into what he and Keith have both established.

Shiro wants to protest what the long-haired prince is about to ask, knowing full well it’s going to have to do with Keith, as he and Keith have just found the right amount of time to get together and catch up. Shiro chances a glance at Keith, and he can see the same discontent at the possibility of losing this moment they’ve not been able to have for a while. The amount of time that it takes to fulfill a mission that’s so intricately plotted that it mere weeks cannot allow it to be completed in, of Marmora, the consistent request from distressed planets that drags Voltron to uncharted reaches for the universe—there’s so many things at play that has severely limited Shiro’s contact with Keith.

It’s a disappointing prospect that taller man has to face, but in the end, the moments they’re able to steal for themselves is what makes some of it worth it.

Shiro braces himself for Lotor to need something.

“Shiro,” and the way Lotor says it makes something linger against his spine that Shiro doesn’t quite know what that’s supposed to be, but it makes him frown, “I need Keith’s assistance.”

Before Shiro can stop himself, he asks, “are you sure you only need Keith?” and Shiro can’t help it, but part of him is fighting to preserve this small amount of time that he gets with Keith, knowing each moment is valuable and he doesn’t want to lose any moments.

Since when does Shiro have to actively fight for moments to have with his best friend?

In an effort to amend his question that sounds more accusatory (Shiro knows exactly how it sounds, what with his frustration at having his time with Keith cut down, and it’s just his own irritation that’s showing through) than anything, he tries, “if you need help in something, I’m sure we all can come together and help—”

“That is not necessary,” and Shiro’s brows raise, not expecting that answer. Lotor has been very generous with the information he has from the Galra, has freely given away any kind of internal information and knowledge that the Galra possess, he’s given over plans that have been in affect for over thousands of years—Lotor has shared so much information to prove that he’s dedicated to being able to dismantle the Galra Empire and craft it into something that will not resemble the greed of imperialistic power. Lotor has been so open and freely giving away what he knows about anything and everything they’ve asked about in relation to knowing about the Galra.

This shouldn’t be any different.

Keith shifts next to him, “are you sure? Shiro is really good at plotting—”

“ _That_ ,” and how sharp that is catches both off guard, “will not be required as well.”

Alright, Shiro isn’t one to pry, he isn’t one to think about denying someone something that they need within reason, but it just doesn’t sit right with him that he’s being forced to give up time to spend with people he cares about, especially when it comes to people that Shiro doesn’t get to see very often.

There’s a kind of dawning that appears on Lotor’s face when his eyes seem to move from Shiro to Keith, who seems to be bristling at Lotor cutting him off, and knowing that it’s a sore subject for Keith when someone doubts Shiro no matter how much he has spent time on reassuring the former red paladin that it’s okay that not everyone is going to agree with him.

“Shiro is just as capable as anyone is,” and it looks as though Keith isn’t about to let this go and Shiro tries to interject with, “Keith, it’s okay,” but Keith doesn’t seem to be listening.

He’s about to go on one of his “Shiro deserves a chance at everything” moments that Shiro is flattered about, no offense, but sometimes it just gets to be a little too much, even when Keith uses it to put himself down in order to lift Shiro up. It’s not something Shiro likes to see, and he doesn’t like that Keith sees this as acceptable.

“My apologies,” and Lotor does sound sincere about this, “especially in that way, I didn’t mean it negatively,” and is it just Shiro, or is Lotor just only looking at Keith, “I was merely asking for your presence because it has to do with your Galra lineage that I thought you may be interested in.”

 Well, that changes the entire atmosphere.

Shiro has gotten enough from Keith to know how the younger man has grown up, from the loss of his father at a young age, ad his mother being absent, and some vague details about the foster homes that Keith has expressed being uncomfortable at divulging, but Shiro has never put the dark-haired male into a position that he would be forced to give those details. He’s aware of Keith’s desire to know about his past, where he came from, who he is, and it strikes a chord within Keith that him changing stances.

Keith blinks, seeming to contemplate it and rolling the words along his tongue before, “I… I would like that,” and as much as Shiro doesn’t want to give up his time with Keith, he knows just how important this is to Keith, just how these answers are what Keith has yearned for so long that it can become a balm that soothes over the rougher parts of his being.

The half-Galra man steps forward but stops, hesitating, looking back at Shiro as Shiro directs his attention from Lotor to Keith, and recognizes the look in Keith’s eyes, the question that sits just behind his teeth. Instead of letting himself become disappointed at Keith being absent again, at his time halved again, he smiles instead, softening the roughened corners along his face.

“Hey, it’s okay. I know how much this means to you,” and there’s still hesitance in Keith’s body language, obviously not wanting to leave his time with Shiro. “I know you’ve always wanted to know about yourself, where you came from, and this is a time where you can have that.”

Keith sighs, shifting on his feet as his weight settles on his left leg, “I know, I know—but I don’t get a lot of time to visit the castle.”

“It’s okay, Keith, I get it, but we’ll always have other times to catch up, it’s not going to hurt to wait a little longer.” Shiro has always been good with soothing words to console people, and it’s always had a particular effect on people that they actively seek the black paladin out for a more intimate, detailed advice that Shiro has found himself too weak to resist, “I know it’s a little disappointing, but we’ll have plenty of time next time. Besides, this is important to you, and I wouldn’t want to keep you from this.”

Keith’s eyes shut, breathing out, and allows himself a moment before he turns toward Lotor, who still stands patiently in front of them, before Keith looks back at Shiro and, “okay, next time,” and Shiro nods, a soft, “next time,” comes in agreement.

Shiro watches at Keith pauses before he lets himself move forward, and walks to the older man’s side, and Shiro watches as Keith and Lotor begin to move off the observatory deck.

As they make their way to the doors, Shiro continues to watch them until they make it past the doors, and just as the doors shut and he’s about to turn away, Lotor moves one of his hands and presses it to the top of Keith’s back. It makes Shiro pause, staring at it as the doors slide shit, the soft whir of them echoing through the near empty space that Shiro occupies. Shiro would notice just how much larger Lotor is than Keith, how much larger he is than Shiro is, and how comical that would be, but Shiro can’t help but notice how… soft that touch seemed to be.

It’s odd, and once again, Shiro can’t place where that behavior is coming from, and also notes that Keith hasn’t shied away from it, how he didn’t seem to be particularly opposed to it.

That… is certainly something that now piques Shiro’s interest.

Since when was Keith okay with other than Shiro having physical contact with him.

 

 

\--

 

 

Shiro would ask about It, but it seems as though every time Shiro gets a moment with Keith, Lotor is there, not very far, coming into their space, into their own existence, to become a theif and take Keith out of it.

It’s starting to feel like there’s something out there that’s trying to keep him and Keith from having any kind of contact with each other.

Shiro is trying to be patient, he really is, but there’s only so uch he can take from trying to limit his interaction with Keith.

What does the universe ( _Lotor_ , his mind supplies with this petulant but knowing tone) have against him with spending time with a close friend?

 

 

\--

 

 

+1.

 

A hitch of breath, lungs stuttering, a throat that’s trying to resist the pull of air that lungs are greedy for, not having enough of it, and its will to refuse its demands is warring with the need to satisfy them.

There’s a movement, the rustle of fabric, the sound of heated breath that pants into the fabric of blankets that does very little to mute the sounds. Teeth grit, eyes pressed shut, as the owner tries to resist the pull of desperation that pools into his stomach, heated and heavy, settling so soundly within the depths of his body, doing all it can to heat him from the inside out that does such a wonderful job at kindling his blood.

It’s Keith, who presses his face into sheets below him, eyes pressed shut, hair caught between his face and the mattress that his face presses against, the sweat that has gathered against his face there to help keep his hair against his skin. Keith is vaguely aware of his hands that grasp at the blankets, the curl of his fingers against his palm a desperation that his body doesn’t quite know how to deal with, trying to deal with it through the force of his hands clenching into the blankets. Keith drags one hand across the bedding, his hand still gripping at the sheets, pulling it with his hand. The hand above his head clenches harder, another sound that wells up in his throat that threatens to split his throat as Keith is trying to keep everything tapered down.

Keith’s body shakes, the shaking in his muscles threaten to unravel his entire form, to shake what’s left of his foundation as his body is shifted up the sheets, his knees grinding into the bed as his body is shifted, pushing down as there is more than his own weight pushing down on them. Keith doesn’t really pay attention to the grip that another pair of hands had on his hips, the sharpness of nails against his hips, biting into the skin there that doesn’t really seem to bother Keith. Instead, Keith turns his head, his eyes unfocused and glazed as they don’t register the wall his eyes gaze at.

Keith’s breath hitches and stutters to a halt when he feels a particular movement, a thrust that slams against his ass, halting in its movement to grind against his ass, and Keith can feel his body lock up as a surge of feeling races up his spine, raking against his spine with sharp nails of feeling that has this stuttering whine that slips past Keith’s teeth before they can close down on the sounds trying to come out.

“That’s it, Keith,” is a warm breath above him, and those hands are off Keith’s waist, and Keith vaguely registers that they’re pushing into the bedding around his head, bending at the elbow as a halo of ivory-colored hair drips into his line of sight. There’s a mouth at his neck, sharpened teeth that graze against Keith’s shoulder, against the marks that have already bloomed in deep maroon and violet hues that press against the underside of Keith’s skin in such a vivid display that they cannot be mistaken as anything else.

A tongue presses flat against Keith’s shoulder, the slightly rough texture dragging against the marks there, against the sensitive skin that’s so much more receptive than what Keith is normally used to. Keith makes a sound, it’s almost wounded in nature, something that Keith isn’t used to making, but he can’t help it.

Instead, Lotor presses against his back, shifting behind him, and Keith is more than aware of the shift it causes Lotor’s cock to make inside him, the odd texture pressing against Keith in ways he’s not sure how to describe, if he can describe, but it’s not exactly unwelcome. It’s the oddness of the ridges, the texture surface, the odd thickness at the base of his cock that is obviously trying to push past his stretched rim. It’s the curved head of Lotor’s cock, almost spear-like, but the tip curls upward and Keith is learning the joys of that being very cognizant of Keith’s prostate, that Keith finds to be what truly does him in.

Keith can’t get over how it’s shaped, how different it is than what Keith is used to, but Keith isn’t exactly complaining about the shape and how different it is.

Keith supposes when being fucked by an alien, they’re bound to have different genitals than what he’s used to.

 _Xenophilia_ , is a word supplied to him that’s oddly in Pidge’s voice.

Lotor’s teeth are suddenly clamping into Keith’s neck and there’s this roaring sound in Keith’s ears that shuts out everything else as Lotor anchors his teeth there, and his hips move forward, faster, harder, as though they’re holding Keith in place as Lotor fucks him in rough, quick successions. Keith feels the heavy panting against his skin, the tongue that presses against him, and the fast pace of Lotor’s cock in him that’s stretching him so good and filling him in ways that Keith never thought he could reach.

It’s so large and thick and slick inside him and Keith feels every movement with such a high sensitivity that he’s not sure how he’s managed to last this long. Lotor’s hands leave from the bedding and settle back on Keith’s hips, nails pressing against his skin but not digging into his skin. Keith’s body is jostled as Lotor seems to lose semblance of himself and his thrust become lesser and more of grinds, these short thrusts that Keith isn’t sure he wants Lotor to stop and go back to the longer thrusts, or if he wants Lotor to keep it up.

“L-Lotor, I—A-ah,” and isn’t it embarrassing that Keith can’t really properly voice his thoughts or what he wants Lotor to do, not when Lotor’s teeth clamp down harder, those fingers calcifying against Keith’s hips, that thick cock pressing against his insides doing everything to derail his thoughts. Keith is sure that Lotor’s big enough to create a bulge in his lower stomach, knowing that his smaller stature will do more than enough to encourage it. It’s their size difference that’s mostly pronounced, with every stretch that Keith’s rim is trying to accustom itself to, everything thrust of Lotor’s cock inside his body telling him that Lotor is so much bigger than what Keith is normally used to.

Lotor’s leaning over him, trapping him, caging him into a place that Keith doesn’t think he’d want to leave, content to spend the rest of his days impaled on Lotor’s cock, to feel that girth stretching him apart, splitting him open, with Lotor letting Keith stay there, warming his cock, keeping it hard inside his body. Keith would even let Lotor walk around with him like that, hands on Keith’s thighs, keeping him stretched open and squirming and seated on Lotor’s cock, plugging him and keeping all that cum Keith is desperate to feel inside of him all plugged up and unable to leave.

It’s probably some primal part of Keith’s brain that’s acting out, that’s feeding into this fantasy because Keith is normally not like this, the idea of sex doesn’t cross his mind that much beyond fulfilling his body’s baser desires without much thought to who he wants to think about or want to think about. He doesn’t really think of anyone, he doesn’t have anyone in mind that he really wants to think about. Keith is just looking to get lost in the feeling and the fantasy part doesn’t really matter to him. Sure, Keith is open to any gender, he doesn’t really care what they identify as, but it’s not something he spends time on trying to come up with a fantasy. Whether it’s Keith fucking into a hot, slick cunt or a hard, thick cock that’s splitting him open, it doesn’t matter—all that matters is the feeling.

But now that Keith has had a taste of what it feels like to be completely owned, to be completely so fucked out that he can’t stop the drool from leaking over the corner of his mouth and wetting the sheets below him, Keith knows his body is forever going to want to have this, it’s going to want to keep feeling this.

Keith almost got so caught up in his thoughts that he nearly missed how Lotor is rutting into him harder, the movements pushing him up the bed, his knees grinding into the bed and Keith can feel it—that thick part of flesh at the base of Lotor’s cock pressing against him rim and Keith doesn’t have enough time to contemplate if that’s going to actually fit.

But there’s this part of Keith’s mind, at the back of his mind in the darkened corners where the light can’t reach, does it push to the forefront of his mind with these low whispers of how he needs this, he wants this, he needs Lotor to get that into his body. He needs to feel himself split open over that piece. He needs to feel himself clench down on it, he needs to feel himself be breached, he needs it so much, he needs it so fucking bad and how empty he is, he’s so fucking _empty_ —he needs it, he needs it, _he needs it_ —

Lotor’s teeth finally breaches Keith’s skin, and the thickest part of Lotor’s cock pushes into him, forcing the smaller half-Galra open even wider, and Keith realizes that _all_ of Lotor’s cock is inside him, it’s forcing him open and stretching him far beyond what he thought was possible, and he can feel it twitch in him. Lotor _grinds_ it in him, hips pushing against him, and a hard press into Keith’s hips seems to force his cock even _deeper_ into Keith’s body and puts this near excruciating pressure on Keith’s prostate with every grind.

Keith can’t do it, he can’t take it anymore—his body seizes up, and a desperate whine, stuttering and rough, slams against the back of his teeth with such force that Keith has no way to resist its desire to leave his mouth. Keith feels his cock twitch and his orgasm surges against Keith’s entire being and pushes him under the waters of bliss and unknowing that creates an entire world of oblivion that leaves Keith without any real idea of what’s happening around him.

He’s vaguely aware of Lotor’ grunts in his ear, and the absoluteness warmth in his stomach that overtakes him, and it’s so much, it’s so overwhelming that Keith’s eyes roll back as he comes again. Keith is pretty sure he’s going to question how Lotor coming inside triggered another orgasm so close to his first one in such a record amount of time.

 

 

\--

 

 

“I know I should’ve asked earlier, but why were acting like that toward everyone?”

It’s a plausible question, it’s one that Keith knew he should have asked at first instead of allowing himself to contemplate his own confusion and inability to figure out just where Lotor was coming from. Sure, Keith is… kind of terrible at seeking out other’s feelings, much less handle his own, but hey, Keith is trying, he really is.

Lotor shifts above him, of which Keith has his head tucked under Lotor’s chin lavender-colored arms around him, caging him in and pressing the smaller biracial man closer to the older one’s chest. There’s a sound in Lotor’s chest, vibrant and pleased, and Keith presses his face closer to Lotor was much as he can get, enjoying the sound as Lotor seems to be content.

“It was Galra courtship.”

Huh.

It feels like this should have been an easy to come by answer, but yet, having no absolute idea what Galra courtship was supposed to be like, or what it’s supposed to do, so Keith can allow himself to be lost and not having any context of the Galra culture to even see what this is.

“I can hear that you don’ understand what Galra courtship is.”

Lotor’s chin tilts upward, staring at something Keith doesn’t know what, but it’s a moment before, “Galra courtship is an old tradition, and still pratised among many Galra today. It involves proving to your mate—” (oh, that word sounds so reverent from Lotor’s tongue, and in its softness, it’s meaning has hooked itself into Keith’s chest)— “that you are deserving of their affections. It involves many traditions, from proving your willing to fight others to ensure their safety—”

And something clicks in Keith’s mind.

“When you stopped Lance at one of the meetings I was at. That was you trying to… court me?”

There’s a smile in Lotor’s voice.

“Yes, that was one of them.”

Keith doesn’t have to think very far to remember all the other incidents.

“Bringing me food in the middle of the night?”

“Mmm, many Galra believe it to be of a courtesy to share their own food with their mate to build trust.”

Keith’s eyes narrow, not sure how the taste of the next words feel against his tongue but daring to ask them anyways.

“So… all that time you were being aggressive to Shiro?”

There’s a moment of silence, and Keith pushes himself back rom Lotor’s (really nice, something that Keith quietly admits to himself) chest, pushing himself up on an elbow to look at Lotor. He notes the hint of color to Lotor’s cheeks, darkened and… embarrassed? Keith’s not sure, but he presses on it.

“I will admit that I… due to the closeness of you and the black paladin, I assumed that he wanted you as his mate.”

Keith’s brows come together, his body recoiling somewhat, “Shiro and I… together? No, non, no—he’s my best friend.”

Lotor’s eyes track Keith’s face.

“No? I assumed that he was trying to court you.”

Keith doesn’t know how to wrap his head around this.

“Why?”

“It is because you and him are the closest of all the paladins. It wouldn’t be a stretch to think you two were on your way to becoming mates.”

There’s that regular rise in Keith’s chest that always springs forth when a situation presents itself that may even, in some kind of way, tarnish Shiro in the smallest of ways, and that defensiveness of Shiro’s being is bubbling up into his throat.

“Lotor,” Keith begins, his voice softened, “Shiro is my best friend, he’s been there for me when no one else was, he helped me when no one else wanted to. I owe him so much and am grateful that he helped me, but I don’t feel that way toward him.”

Lotor has the decency to look embarrassed. The color in his face darkening, more pronounced, and Keith finds himself entranced by the difference. It’s adorable in many ways.

“He’ll always be my best friend, I’ll always be there for him when I can, but I don’t like him the way I like you. Shiro will always be there for me when I need him, but you? I—” and Keith has to breathe, trying to gather himself together to delve into emotions that he’s not used to dealing with, finding the foreignness of it to be nerve-wracking and even exhilarating, “I will always want him in my life, but he’s not like that for me, not the way I—the way I want you to be.”

The older mixed-race man looks at Keith, his eyes searching Keith’s face for something, anything, but it seems to placate as a softened look etches into Lotor’s face. There’s a hand that’s at the side of Keith’s face, a thumb that’s placed against Keith’s cheek, and Lotor traces it along the soft skin there, “I will have to apologize to Shiro. I may have been getting ready to challenge him for you.”

Keith can’t help it and lets out a laugh, unable to come to terms with how odd this situation is. He knows he should be irritated that Lotor thought so poorly of Shiro, that Shiro could have been in danger, but it’s all just so amusing and Keith is relieved that Lotor truly didn’t have a problem with Shiro.

“All that, just because of Shiro?”

“Please, don’t bring that up, I have more than enough to apologize for, seeing how no one could see that I was trying to court you. It may have… left many questions, ones that I’m sure that I’m going to have to answer later on.”

**Author's Note:**

> Anyways, that's that, I hope y'all had fun with this as much as I did. Come catch me on [tumblr](http://bottomnoctis.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/omegakeith)


End file.
